The Supernatural Story of Scarlett Amory
by alex435
Summary: This is the story of when 19 year-old Scarlett Amory meets Same and Dean Winchester, and what happens when she convinces them to let her tag along, after helping them with a case in her small town. Please Rate and Review!
1. Chapter 1

My name is Scarlett Amory; I'm not really sure why I'm writing this, but somehow it feels important for there to be a written account of what's been happening. Not to be narcissistic or anything, but I don't think that what I've seen or done recently should just fade away and be forgotten in the case of my death. Which, as of late, has actually been a more pressing issue than one would think it would be for a 19-year-old girl from Elm Creek, Nebraska, and yes, it is as rural and empty as it sounds.

Now, I realize I've been very vague so far so I should probably start getting to the point. The fact of the matter is that if you are reading this, I'm dead. You might have known me or maybe you just found this accidently. If so, congratulations on not getting bored yet and also, I humbly ask you to keep reading. After all, I am dead. Show some respect. Anyway, I guess the beginning is a good place to start.  
I was sitting in the back row of an empty bus heading back home to Elm Creek for the summer. My first year at The University of Chicago had been good, if a little uneventful. Of course, it was better than the hellhole that was Elm Creek, but even there, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just missing. Before I could dwell any further on the lack of purpose in my life, my phone rang, saving me from the existential crisis I would have inevitably worked myself into.

"Hey mom," I answered.

"Hey! You almost home?" She sounded so excited to see me. I felt a pang of quilt for being so miserable at the prospect of coming home. I knew it must be hard for her living alone after I had left.

"Yeah, I'll be there in about ten minutes," I responded, trying to put at least a semblance of pep in my voice.

"Great," she paused, sounding nervous all of a sudden, "by the way, I have a surprise when you get here!"

"Okay, can't wait!" I said, and then hung up. I had no clue what this surprise could be. Surely, it couldn't be too bad. I looked out the window as we passed the

"Welcome to Elm Creek" sign and then the memorial with get well wishes for Ms. Hastings. She had been attacked a week ago. The attacker hadn't been caught yet and apparently everyone was still reeling. I hadn't known her well, but my mom was shaken. She used to go over for drinks at her house all the time. I knew that I was being selfish and probably a bad person, but I had hoped that she wouldn't want to talk about it. Emotions were not my strongpoint, and when I tried to comfort people, it was uncomfortable for everyone involved. From what my mom did tell me though, Ms. Hastings' attack was the strangest thing to happen in Elm Creek ever. Apparently they had found her lying on the floor of her house, almost completely drained of blood, struggling for life. The weirder part was that she had just lain there, still alive, but unmoving, just staring at nothing. They got her to the hospital in time but she remained completely unresponsive. Her body still functioned but it seemed no one was home anymore. Nobody knew what to make of it. The only "lead" the police had was that Ms. Hastings had been reporting objects flying and crashing around her house on their own. Not what I would call a legitimate clue.  
When the bus rolled to a stop, I stood and braced myself for my mother's onslaught of affection. Look on the bright side, I told myself, now that you're home, you'll be able to read, binge-watch Netflix and generally avoid the outside world. When my mom saw me, she barreled toward me, wrapping me in a bear hug. She basically looked like an older version of me; 5"5, freckles, dark brown hair, average in most ways. Although, she got cascading curls while I was stuck with flat and straight. Lucky bitch. On the way home, she of course talked my ear off, letting me know all the riveting details of Elm Creek that I had missed. I nodded, smiled and replied with "No way!" or "I can't believe it!" at all the right intervals. When we got home, a car I didn't recognize was parked in the driveway. My mom looked over at me expectantly.

"Okay, surprise time. Promise to try and keep an open mind," she said.

"I promise," I said suspiciously. We walked in the house and my mom shouted,

"Robert, we're home!" _Who the hell is Robert?_ I thought. A man walked into the hallway. Honestly, he was attractive, which had just made me more nervous. He was tall, lean, had gorgeous raven colored hair and wore a prim button down shirt and black dress pants.

"Scarlett, this is Robert Keres, my boyfriend," my mom said. Okay that I hadn't been expecting. It was good though; she needed someone to be there for her.

"Hello, It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard nothing but good things," he said cordially. He looked down at me with his sharp, elegant features, and stuck out his hand. I shook it awkwardly, held on too long or maybe not long enough. I could never tell. Then it was time for me to not make an ass out of myself, which I usually couldn't accomplish when meeting new people.

"Um, hi…yeah, nice to meet you too," I said.

"Why don't you go put your stuff upstairs, and then we can go to dinner somewhere," my mom said.

"Yeah, sure, good. I'll uh, be right back." Robert smiled and said,

"Take all the time you need." I turned around and headed for the stairs, as I passed the door, the doorbell rang. Damn, what had happened to avoiding the outside world? I opened it, and tried to contain my alarm. Two men stood on the porch. One of them was, well not to be rude but gargantuan, with hair he really should cut sometime. But hey, who was I to judge? Maybe he dressed up as Bigfoot on the weekends. The other man was shorter, but still tall, with a reasonable hair length. Both of them however, were very muscular and very attractive. Damn, I really was going to make an ass out of myself.

"Hi," the Bigfoot-like one said, "I'm agent Hamill and this is agent Ford, we're from the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions?"


	2. Chapter 2

Shit FBI? They wouldn't send the feds after you for jaywalking would they? I thought. "I didn't do anything," I blurted out. Why did my mom mouth always go off and say stupid things without my brain's permission? The two agents exchanged awkward, bemused looks. Bigfoot gave me a half smile and said "Um, okay. Good to know." I nodded and rocked back on my heels as an uncomfortable silence ensued. "Anyway," agent Ford said hastily, "we're here about the attack on a Ms. Hastings. Did you know her well? "Um, not really-" wait, I thought. How did I even know these guys were really FBI? I mean there had to be some kind of regulation against hair that long. "Can I see some ID or something?" I asked. "Of course." They each handed me their FBI badges. I stared at them, nodded and pretended like I knew what the hell I was looking for. How come no one ever taught me how to recognize fake IDs? I considered whipping out my phone and googling it really quickly, but figured that they would probably notice. I decided to just play it cool. Not one of my strong points. "Yep, everything looks to be in order here," I said, with what I hoped was confidence. I handed the badges back to them and continued, " I didn't really know her all that well, but my mom told me a lot about her." "Okay, great! Did she tell you guys about anything strange that happened to her before the attack? Or did she meet any new people recently?" " No, everyone pretty much knows everyone here. New people are very uncommon. The only thing I can think of is that she kept rambling on about flying objects in her house, but you guys probably don't care about that." The agents gave each other curious and surprised looks. "No, that could be important," Agent Ford said, "have you seen any moving objects or flickering lights? Or felt any felt any cold spots?" Okay, I was seriously starting to doubt the legitimacy of these agents. What kind of questions were those? I began to inch the door close. "Look, I think I'm done answering questions, if I didn't do anything." They looked disappointed for a second but quickly covered it up with respectful smiles. "No problem," Bigfoot said as he handed me a card, "if you see anything, give us a call." I watched them turn around and walk down the steps. Before they had gotten out of earshot, I swear I heard Ford say to Bigfoot, "Flying objects and drained blood? What the hell is that?" and then half seriously, half jokingly "Vampire Ghost?" Okay, definitely not FBI, definitely off their rockers, I thought. I slammed the door and watched them get into their '67 Chevy Impala. They might be crazy but damn, that was a nice car. Alright, in the interest of not boring anyone reading this, I'm going to skip all the boring domestic stuff. We went to dinner with Robert. It was good, he seemed really nice and really in love with my mom. It was great. Things got interesting at about 2:00 A.M that night or morning I guess. I woke up to the sound of shattering glass. I jolted out of bed and into my fighting stance. Thank God no one was there to see it. It was pretty embarrassing. I looked over to the corner of my room to see the glass of my mirror completely shattered. Shit shit shit, I thought. I grabbed my metal baseball ball that sat next to my bed. I had never played baseball, but I was nothing if not paranoid and prepared. Before I could shout "Who's there?" I remembered that the people who shouted that always died first in the movies. Why did my mom have to go stay at Robert's for the night and leave me alone to fend off the perpetrator? I tried to keep calm. Logically, I knew he had to be somewhere else in the house because there was nowhere to hide in my room and I couldn't see him. Then, a stack of books flew off my shelf and crashed into the opposite wall and all thoughts of being logical went out the window. I ran out of my room. I was too scared to look back, but I heard picture frames fly off the walls behind me. I burst out of the front door and looked back at my house. Frankly, I had no clue what to do. As of 3 minutes ago, I hadn't believed in any invisible entities of any kind. Now, I had two choices, believe in invisible entities or believe that I had gone crazy. I didn't want to believe the latter option so I latched on to the former. I still needed a plan of action though. I couldn't go to the police, they would never believe—wait, the FEDS! Yeah, I was relatively sure they weren't actually FBI, but maybe they were like super traveling ghost fighters, and that's what I needed at that moment. It was time for me to tap into my as of then unused courage and go back in the house to get the card with their number. I took a deep breath and then ran inside before I could talk myself out of it. I made a beeline for the counter, where the card was. I dialed the number into my phone and hesitated before hitting the call button. It's 2:00 A.M; I can't call them this late. They're probably sleeping. I thought, and then quickly scolded myself. This is ridiculous, if there was ever a time to not be polite, its now, I thought as I hit call and began sneaking back to the door. He, Agent Ford I think, answered on the third ring "Hello?" He answered groggily. I must have woken him up, I thought guiltily. "Hi, sorry to wake you, but you talked about flying objects earlier and now flying objects are chasing me around my house so I could probably, maybe use some help." I spat out quickly. I heard commotion in the background and he said "Get out of the house, we'll be there soon." I hung up and ran back outside but just as I passed the threshold, something pulled my feet out from under me and started to drag me back into the house. I screamed very girlishly. Damn, I didn't know my voice could go that high. I grasped for anything to hold on to, but whatever was pulling me was too strong. I was released when I got to the kitchen, but that relief was quickly clouded over by panic when a knife floated out of a drawer and came towards me. I tried to run but I was slammed into the wall, sending a sharp burst of pain through my shoulder. I was picked up off the floor and held against the wall, helpless as the knife began to puncture my neck. Pain is weird. When I watched T.V and people got hurt, I always thought, c'mon, that doesn't look so bad. I can handle that. But in reality, even this relatively small pain was overwhelming. It had a way of hazing over my mind and detaching me from reality. Suddenly, before the knife could cut any deeper it dropped from the air and I was released. I fell in a heap on the floor, causing more stabbing pains to move through my shoulder and down my arm. I was hazy with shock but realized that the front door had been kicked open and Ford and Hamill were now in the house. Hamill ran past me into the kitchen and Ford squatted down next to me. "Can you walk?" He barked out. "Um…yeah,yeah. I'm fine," I stammered as I tried to reorient myself. He offered me a hand to help me up but I ignored it, using the wall as support. I felt something warm trickle down my neck, and when I lifted up my arm, to see what it was, a raging pain responded in protest. "Fuck," I gasped accidentally. Ford looked concerned for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a professional look. He looked at my neck and then my arm hanging limply by my side, and said, "The knife didn't cut deep enough, you'll be fine. But your arm is dislocated." He then looked over my shoulder and shouted, "Sammy, we gotta get her to a hospital." "Excuse me?" I said, trying to control the raising volume of my voice. "I'm attacked by a flying knife and you expect me to just be dropped off at a hospital? First off, how am I going to explain a knife wound and secondly, I want answers and you guys obviously have them." I looked around at their frustrated yet bemused faces. I was on a roll. "So yeah. I'm sure you guys can just patch this up and then you can tell me what the actual fuck is going on." "Look, you really should go to a hospital, we can take care of this," Ford said. "No way, I'm involved now and if you think I'm just going to sit around as you and Bigfoot here play ghost hunter, you're dead wrong." You can always count on life threatening experiences to cure you of your social incompetence, it seemed. "Did you just call him Bigfoot?" Ford asked as a huge grin spread across his face. I looked at each of them nervously and rocked back and forth on my heels. "Uh, maybe?" I responded. Ford started laughing "That's hilarious." He said. I tried not to smile but his laugh was, and I hate to admit this, kind of infectious. "It's also not the point." Hamill said from behind me. "Look, we'll take you back to the motel, take care of your injuries and explain some of what's happening." "But after that, you're done. Its dangerous for you to be involved got it?" Ford interjected. "Fine." I said, hiding my smug smile. I had no intention of being uninvolved anytime soon. 


End file.
